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Before the strange disease of modern Then Ay our greetings, Aly our speech and life,

smiles! With its sick hurry, its divided aims, - As some grave Tyrian trader, from the Its heads o'ertaxed, its palsied hearts,

sea, was rife

Descried at sunrise an emerging prow Fly hence, our contact fear!

Lifting the cool-haired creepers stealthily, Still Ay, plunge deeper in the bowering The fringes of a southward-facing wood!

brow

235 Averse, as Dido did with gesture stern

Among the Ægæan Isles; From her false friend's approach in And saw the merry Grecian coaster come, Hades turn,

Freighted with amber grapes, and Chian Wave us away and keep thy solitude! 210

wine, Green, bursting figs, and tunnies steeped

in brine Still nursing the unconquerable hope, And knew the intruders on his ancient Still clutching the inviolable shade,

home, With a free onward impulse brushing through,

The young light-hearted masters of the By night, the silvered branches of the glade

And snatched his rudder, and shook out Far on the forest-skirts, where none

more sail; pursue,

And day and night held on indignantly On some mild pastoral slope

O'er the Blue Midland waters with the Emerge, and resting on the moonlit pales

gale, Freshen thy Aowers as in former years

Betwixt the Syrtes and soft Sicily, With dew, or listen with enchanted

To where the Atlantic raves ears,

Outside the western straits; and unbent From the dark dingles, to the nightin

sails gales!

There, where down cloudy cliffs,

through sheets of foam,

Shy traffickers, the dark Iberians come; But fly our paths, our feverish contact Aly! And the beach undid his corded For strong the infection of our mental

bales.

250 strife, Which, though it gives no bliss, yet

STANZAS ROM THE GRANDE spoils for rest;

CHARTREUSE And we should win thee from thy own fair life,

(1855) Like us distracted, and like us

Through Alpine meadows soft-suffused blest.

With rain, where thick the crocus blows, Soon, soon thy cheer would die,

Past the dark forges long disused, Thy hopes grow timorous, and unfixed thy The mule-track from Saint Laurent goes. powers,

The bridge is crossed, and slow we ride, 5 And thy clear aims be cross and shifting Through forest, up the mountain-side. And then thy glad perennial youth would The autumnal evening darkens round, fade,

The wind is up, and drives the rain; Fade and grow old at last, and die like While, hark! far down, with strangled

sound

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STANZAS FROM THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE

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com

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Doth the Dead Guier's stream

The library, where tract and tome plain,

Not to feed priestly pride are there, Where that wet smoke, among the woods, To hymn the conquering march of Rome, Over his boiling cauldron broods.

Nor yet to amuse, as ours are!

They paint of souls the inner strife, Swift rush the spectral vapors white Their drops of blood, their death in life. Past limestone scars with ragged pines, Showing — then blotting from

The garden, overgrown - yet mild, sight!

See, fragrant herbs are flowering there! Halt — through the cloud-drift something Strong children of the Alpine wild shines !

Whose culture is the brethren's care; High in the valley, wet and drear,

Of human tasks their only one, The huts of Courrerie appear.

And cheerful works beneath the sun.

our

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And secret from the eyes of all.

AUSTERITY OF POETRY Deep, deep the greenwood round them

(1867) waves, Their abbey, and its close of graves!

That son of Italy who tried to blow,

Ere Dante came, the trump of sacred But, where the road

the

song, stream,

In his light youth amid a festal throng Oft through the trees they catch a glance

Sate with his bride to see a public show. Of passing troops in the sun's beam Fair was the bride, and on her front did Pennon, and plume, and flashing lance!

glow Forth to the world those soldiers fare, Youth like a star; and what to youth To life, to cities, and to war!

belong

Gay raiment, sparkling gauds, elation And through the wood, another way,

strong. Faint bugle-notes from far are borne, A prop gave way! crash fell a platform! Where hunters gather, staghounds bay,

lo, Round some fair forest-lodge at morn.

'Mid struggling sufferers, hurt to death, Gay dames are there, in sylvan green; 185

she lay! Laughter and cries - those notes be Shuddering, they drew her garments off tween!

and found

A robe of sackcloth next the smooth, The banners flashing through the trees

white skin. Make their blood dance and chain their Such, poets, is your bride, the Muse! eyes;

young, gay, That bugle-music on the breeze

Radiant, adorned outside; a hidden ground Arrests them with a charmed surprise. 190 Of thought and of austerity within. Banner by turns and bugle woo: Ye shy recluses, follow too!

WORLDLY PLACE O children, what do ye reply?

(1867) "Action and pleasure, will ye roam Through these secluded dells to cry Even in a palace, life may be led well! And call us? — but too late ye come! So spake the imperial sage, purest of men, Too late for us your call ye blow,

Marcus Aurelius. But the stilling den Whose bent was taken long ago.

Of common life, where, crowded up pell

mell, “Long since we pace this shadowed nave; Our freedom for a little bread we sell, 5 We watch those yellow tapers shine, And drudge under some foolish master's Emblems of hope over the grave,

ken In the high altar's depth divine;

Who rates us if we peer outside our pen The organ carries to our ear

Matched with a palace, is not this a hell ? Its accents of another sphere.

Even in a palace! On his truth sincere,

Who spoke these words, no shadow ever "Fenced early in this cloistral round

came; Of reverie, of shade, of prayer,

And when my ill-schooled spirit is aflame How should we grow in other ground? Some nobler, ampler stage of life to win, How can we flower in foreign air?

I'll stop, and say: “There were no succor - Pass, banners, pass, and bugles, cease; here! And leave our desert to its peace!”

The aids to noble life are all within."

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WEST LONDON

To cheer thee, and to right thee if thou (1867)

Not with lost toil thou laborest through Crouched on the pavement, close by Bel the night! grave Square,

Thou mak'st the heaven thou hop'st indeed A tramp I saw, ill, moody, and tongue

thy home. tied. A babe was in her arms, and at her side

THE BETTER PART A girl; their clothes were rags, their feet

(1867) were bare. Some laboring men, whose work lay some Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of where there,

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man, Passed opposite; she touched her girl, who How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler hied

fare! Across, and begged, and came back satis “Christ,” some one says, “was human as fied.

we are; The rich she had let pass with frozen No judge eyes us from Heaven, our sin to stare.

scan; Thought I: "Above her state this spirit We live no more, when we have done our towers;

span." She will not ask of aliens, but of friends, 10 "Well, then, for Christ,” thou answerest, Of sharers in a common human fate.

"who can care? She turns from that cold succor, which From sin, which Heaven records not, why attends

forbear? The unknown little from the unknowing Live we like brutes our life without a great,

plan!” And points us to a better time than ours.” So answerest thou; but why not rather

say:

"Hath man no second life? Pitch this EAST LONDON

one high! (1867)

Sits there no judge in Heaven, our sin to

see? 'Twas August, and the fierce sun over More strictly, then, the inward judge head

obey! Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Was Christ a man like us? Ah! let us try Green,

If we then, too, can be such men as he!" And the pale weaver, through his windows

IMMORTALITY) In Spitalfields, looked thrice dispirited.

(1867) I met a preacher there I knew, and said: 5 "Ill and o'erworked, how fare you in this Foiled by our fellow-men, depressed, outscene?”

worn, "Bravely!” said he; "for I of late have We leave the brutal world to take its been

way, Much cheered with thoughts of Christ, And, Patience! in another life, we say, the living bread."

The world shall be thrust down, and we O human soul! as long as thou canst so

up-borne. Set up a mark of everlasting light, And will not, then, the immortal armies Above the howling senses' ebb and flow,

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